Come Back When You Can
by andersonblaine
Summary: Doctor Who!Klaine. Kurt meets a very interesting man after an "accident" after hours at Vogue.


**A/N: I realize that a lot of the things done/mentioned in here doesn't really match up with the "rules" of Doctor Who in canon, but I hope you can bear with me for this fic. I've always been terrible at keeping up with Doctor Who's rules and the exceptions to them and what not.**

* * *

Kurt sighed as he watched the last of the employees file out of the building. Another intern named Tom, whom Kurt had become friends with, poked his head in the doorway. "See you tomorrow, Kurt," he said. "Don't stay up too late. We've got that big show tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow's show is the reason why I can't leave. Isabelle put me in charge of all the last-minute preparations, and I have to make sure everything's perfect." He gestured at the piles of papers spread out on the desk before him.

"Ah, well...good luck."

"Thanks."

Tom left the room then, and the building was empty save for Kurt and the security guards keeping watch on the first floor. It was almost eleven o' clock at night; the sky was pitch black, and so was the inside of the Vogue building except for the room in which he was working. He returned to his work, which was currently organizing various designs by theme and matching them with the real, sewn together clothing items to make sure everything was in order for Isabelle's first fashion show of the year.

For about half an hour, the only noises he heard were the sounds of paper shuffling and clothing hangers clinking against the metal rack. But suddenly, Kurt heard the sound of heels against hardwood. Although it wasn't loud at all, it seemed as loud as firecrackers against the previously silent night. Curious who else was still in the building, he stood from his chair and cautiously stepped into the lobby. He looked to his right and jumped in surprise when he saw Mindy, the secretary, just a few feet away from him. He immediately sensed that something was wrong. She had a blank stare on her face, and her unblinking eyes were fixed on him. The look sent chills up his spine.

"Mindy?" he tried, but got no response. "What are you doing here?"

That seemed to catch her attention. She cocked her head to the side and a smile spread across her face. "Oh, you know, just doing my job."

What happened next was the most frightening thing Kurt had ever seen. Before his very eyes, a long, metal rod with something like a dome on the end protruded from Mindy's forehead. Kurt's eyes widened in horror and he stepped back, but when he tried to run her hand clamped down on his forearm. "Leaving so soon?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He tried to find the strength to run, to move, to do anything but just stand there, but he found it difficult. When he looked up from his arm, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a man standing about ten feet behind Mindy. In the darkness, it was hard to see anything but his silhouette, and it was only with the little light provided by the moon that he was able to see him mouth the words "run on three." He raised his hand and held up one finger, then two, then three, and in a sudden adrenaline rush Kurt found the strength and bravery to kick the woman in the stomach. Caught off-guard, she stumbled back and he sprinted across the room and to the hallway. Over the rhythm of his feet against the floor and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, he heard the man talking. When he was about halfway to the staircase, he heard a high-pitched buzzing noise followed by Mindy's voice: "Self-destruct in thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight..."

He flung the staircase door open and dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He had started on the sixth floor; by the time he reached the second his legs felt like Jell-O, but he willed himself to keep going.

He finally reached the bottom of the staircase when someone suddenly took his hand and pulled him ahead. Looking up, he saw that it was the man he had seen upstairs. Kurt opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out the man interrupted him. "No time for questions. _Run!_"

The man was an even faster runner than Kurt, and therefore Kurt had trouble keeping up with him. He refused to let go of his hand as he ran, so all Kurt could do was be dragged along and try his best not to trip or fall.

The man slammed himself against the glass door, pushing it open and flinging them both out of the building. They were a mere two feet away when Kurt was hurled up into the air and, just a second later, forcefully thrown onto the ground with a thud. A sharp, throbbing pain spread throughout his entire body; when he tried to move, glass crunched beneath him. The air was extremely hot, and in the windows of the building across the street he saw his workplace in flames.

He lay there for a minute or two, his mind still trying to process the last five minutes. In retrospect it seemed silly and trivial, but at that moment all he could think about was his design sketchbook that had been sitting on his desk and was now burned to dust, years of sketches and creativity gone in just a few minutes. He couldn't help but be just a bit upset about it.

Soon the pain dulled, and he lifted his head to see the man standing in front of him, hand outstretched. He painfully managed to get to his feet and looked down at himself. His hands were bloody and full of cuts, and guessing from his red-stained shirt, so was his stomach. Down the street he heard the sound of distant fire engines. "We should go," the man said, already beginning to walk away. For some reason unknown to him, Kurt found himself walking beside him, and for the first time, with the street lights shining down on them, Kurt was able to really see him. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and, Kurt noticed, not the best fashion sense. He was wearing a bright green plaid shirt with suspenders, a jacket, and a matching bow tie. However, he tried not to judge, considering he had just saved his life and all.

"Shouldn't we wait to talk to the police? Tell them what we saw?" he asked.

"This isn't a case for the police," he explained. "They'll just say the cause for the explosion was unknown. Furnace fire, maybe. Oh, and—hold on—" He dug in the inside of his jacket and pulled out a familiar blue sketchbook. "Is this yours by any chance?

"Oh my god, how did you get this?" Kurt took it from him and flipped through the pages to see the hundred or so pages of designs he had drawn.

"I saw it on your desk through the window on the way out. It was open and it seemed important, so I thought I would save it."

"Thank you so much. I thought it was gone." Kurt was grinning from ear to ear until the questions that were nagging at him returned to his mind."Wait, what _did_ happen back there? What happened to Mindy? Who are you? How did you—"

"Let's take this one question at a time, shall we?" He smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Just The Doctor. And you are?"

"Kurt Hummel. So...you don't have a real name?"

"Oh, I do. But most just call me The Doctor."

Although he was still confused, Kurt nodded. "And...what just happened?"

"Back there?"

"Yeah. What happened to Mindy, that woman? Is she...?"

"Dead? Unfortunately. But that wasn't actually her. It was a Dalek."

"Dalek?"

"They turned her into an alien. God knows how long it's been since they converted her, poor girl. I'm guessing she was about to convert you as well. They have a hive mind. I imagine they told her to blow herself up."

"You mean she wanted to turn me into an alien too?"

"That's right." Kurt's eyes widened in shock and The Doctor added, "But she didn't! You're still perfectly human. Isn't that great?"

Kurt was amazed. In a matter of about ten minutes he went from preparing for a fashion show to almost being turned into an alien to almost being blown to pieces.

A gust of icy wind stung at his skin and wounds, and he brought his arms to his chest in a meager attempt to keep warm. When The Doctor saw this, he took off his jacket and offered it to Kurt, who graciously accepted it and put it on to find that it was almost a perfect fit.

"Thank you. How do you know all of this? Are you an alien?"

"I'm a time lord. I travel through space and time, saving species and even the world on a few occasions. Can't say it's ever boring."

"So what brings you to New York City, January 2013?"

The Doctor sighed. "Oh, I have a lot of history here. Thought I'd stop by."

"You know, an hour ago I would have thought you were insane, with all this time traveling and aliens. Now, I believe you."

"I get it. Sorry about your friend, by the way."

"Thanks, I guess. It's still kind of...processing. Kind of a lot to take in." During the silence that followed, Kurt realized he had no idea where they were headed. "Where are we going, anyways?"

The Doctor turned into an alley. "Here," he said, and walked to a large, early-1900s-looking bright blue police box. Out of his pocket he retrieved a key and used it to open the door. He stepped inside but stood in the doorway, facing Kurt. They were both silent for a moment, neither of them sure what to say. Kurt had known him for no more than twenty minutes, yet he couldn't help but want to know more about him.

"It's called the TARDIS," The Doctor explained. "Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"Your spaceship is a police box? How old are you, anyways?" Kurt asked. "This can't be from any later than, like, the sixties."

"Oh, I've been around for a thousand years or so," he replied casually.

Kurt's jaw initially dropped to the floor, but he quickly recovered. "Well, you don't look a day over twenty." He gave a small smile. "What's your secret?"

"Regeneration."

"You're kidding."

"Kurt Hummel, you've seen a Dalek, almost turned into one, survived an explosion, met a time lord, and saw his spaceship all in one night, but somehow you find regeneration so hard to believe?"

"I guess you're right." They both grinned at each other and fell into silence for a moment until The Doctor spoke again. "You could come with, you know."

"With you? Time traveling in a police box and saving the world?"

"Yeah, why not? It would be a blast. Traveling alone _does _get lonely after a while."

Kurt thought about it. It did seem like it would be fun, and he certainly trusted The Doctor. But...

"I have work," he said. "Well, maybe not anymore. But my roommate would worry about me."

"You'd only be gone an hour in...real-world time. Two, tops."

_I could do it,_ he thought. He imagined himself somewhere else: England, 1700s, fighting off robots. It would be quite the experience. But something was keeping him from saying yes, from immediately jumping into that blue box, just him and The Doctor. He thought of the night's events, plagued by danger and death. While he liked taking risks, he wasn't sure he wanted to have another near-death experience so soon. And he definitely did not want to witness another death, regardless of whether he knew the person or not.

"Actually, I think I'm going to have to pass," he told The Doctor. "I think I've had enough extraterrestrial experiences for one lifetime."

The Doctor let out a short laugh. "Alright. It was nice meeting you."

"You too, definitely. Thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I'd be an alien right now." He smiled gratefully. "And don't be afraid to find me next time you're in town, okay?"

"Sure." He took a step further into the TARDIS. "Good night, Kurt Hummel."

"Goodbye, Doctor." Kurt waved and began to walk away when he realized he was still wearing The Doctor's jacket.

He quickly turned around. "Doctor—" he started, but stopped when he saw that the box had disappeared and he was standing in an empty alley.

* * *

It was almost midnight when he finally returned to his apartment. He had only gotten one foot inside when Rachel flung her arms around him. "Oh my god, Kurt! I heard what happened on the news and you weren't answering your phone, I was so worried! Why didn't you answer me? I'm so happy you're safe."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, and told Rachel the story he had fabricated in the taxi on the way home. He knew Rachel would check him into an insane asylum if he told her the truth. "I left my phone on my desk. I was the last one in the building. I just heard the fire alarm go off and I bolted out of there. All I could grab was my sketchbook. I got out of there just in time. I'm pretty beat up, but I'll live."

"Did you talk to the police? Did they say what caused it?"

"Uh...furnace fire, they think."

"That's terrible." Rachel looked him up and down. "You're all bloody. Go shower and I'll make tea."

Kurt went to his room and looked at himself in his mirror. There were blood splotches on his white shirt, and when he lifted the fabric he saw cuts and bruises all over his stomach. He walked to the bathroom and washed his hands, watching the water turn pink and then disappear down the drain. Then he took off the jacket, draped it over a clothes hanger, and hung it in the back of his closet. The jacket was the one thing he had to remind him that he wasn't crazy, that The Doctor was, in fact, real. Over the following days, weeks, months, and even years, he found himself thinking of The Doctor every now and again. He would catch a glimpse of the jacket in his closet and be reminded of the man with the police box, the man who saved his life and who he longed to see again.

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**A/N: Thank you so much for reading. It'd make my day if you left a review!**


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